


Not Here

by sophinisba



Category: Lord of the Rings (2001 2002 2003), Lord of the Rings - Tolkien
Genre: 1000-5000 Words, Embarrassment, M/M, Medical, Mpreg, My First Fanfic, animal cruelty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-04
Updated: 2005-05-04
Packaged: 2017-10-07 01:16:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophinisba/pseuds/sophinisba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aragorn tries to help pregnant Frodo relax during a thorough medical examination.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Here

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lilybaggins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilybaggins/gifts).



> Written for LilyBaggins' kinks, e-mailed to her, betaed by her, and originally posted on her LJ before I had my own.
> 
> To avoid reading about cruelty to animals skip paragraphs 3-6, set off with stars. To avoid reading about cruelty to hobbits run away now.

"Relax," murmured Aragorn, and Frodo tried, he really did. He lay back and breathed deeply, as Aragorn had instructed, and tried to ignore the fact that these absurd stirrups had him spread wide open, displayed, more vulnerable than he'd ever felt in his life. Ignore the fact that he was exposed in this way to the King of Gondor, of all people. Aragorn was a trusted friend, it was true, but a Man of such dignity, such grave intelligence and fierce beauty that Frodo never truly felt at ease in his presence.

As Aragorn moved his hands over the hobbit's pregnant belly, checking on the babe's growth and position, Frodo tried to let his mind wander away from Minas Tirith and his current predicament, back to the Shire and his childhood, and suddenly his memory shot to something he hadn't thought of in years, perhaps decades. Immediately he wished he could forget it again.

***

As a small child, even before the death of his parents, he'd wandered one afternoon in the woods near Brandy Hall, and come across his cousin Lotho, sitting by himself, hunched over something that Frodo couldn't see.

Despite his curiosity, Frodo felt it best to try to sneak away unperceived. Lotho had only been visiting for a few weeks and Frodo didn't know him well, but he'd been frightened of the older boy from the first. Frodo considered himself stealthy, but moving backward he stepped on a twig and the noise made Lotho jump, whirl around on him in surprise and anger, and then suddenly relax into a joyless smile Frodo had seen on him before.

"Come take a look, then," said Lotho, and Frodo was too frightened to think to do anything else. When he reached the spot he saw that his cousin had been bent over a dragonfly, wider across its wings than Frodo's two hands, lying still on its back. No, he realized with a start, not completely still, for the insect had been pinned down by its wings, but it was still alive, twitching as Lotho prodded it with a small stick. Frodo stared.

"I like to see how they move," Lotho explained. "You poke here, in the middle, and the legs move around, see? I've caught field mice before and I figured out how to keep them in place while I look around, find things out. My dad says it's good to find out about animals, how they're made, you know. He said I could even be a doctor when I grow up, and I'll move into Uncle Bilbo's place and be the most respectable hobbit in the West Farthing." He paused, and held out the stick to Frodo. "You want to try?"

Frodo had run away then, but for years he remembered the image of that dragonfly, and the mice and rabbits he imagined Lotho going at with sticks, and even with knives. He was haunted by the coldness in his cousin's eyes, the way he'd ignored the animal's pain. He tried to avoid Lotho, but when they had to be together he often felt the same cold, assessing gaze when he looked at Frodo or at other hobbits, especially smaller, weaker ones. He feared being pinned down by the older boy.

***

In the present, on the examining table, Frodo shivered.

Aragorn quickly moved to his side and touched his bare arm, his hand soothing and warm. "Are you all right, Frodo?"

"Is this really necessary, Aragorn?" he asked, bringing himself quickly back to the present.

The king paused. "We've discussed . . ."

"I know, I know," said Frodo, more testily than he'd meant to. "It's for the good of the babe."

"And for your own health, Frodo," Aragorn added gently.

"And for mine, I know. I did listen, and I know you say it won't hurt, either, it's just . . ." Frodo was alarmed to hear the catch in his voice. "It's one thing for you to tell me to relax, Aragorn, and another thing entirely for me to be able to do it." _And I can't believe I'm having a conversation with you while my bare arse hangs off the end of this table,_ he decided it best not to say out loud.

"Relaxing will ease the muscles around the birth canal, Frodo. It will make the examination easier for me and much more comfortable for you."

Frodo rather felt that Aragorn had completely missed the point of his recent statement about the difference between saying and doing, but he decided to stop arguing. "I will try," he sighed. "You may go on."

Aragorn moved back to the other end of the table and stood in between Frodo's bent legs, holding his hands out several inches on each side of Frodo's knees. "I want you to take another deep breath, Frodo, and when you let it out, just let your knees fall out toward my hands."

Frodo breathed shallowly and did not move. "What?" he asked in a low tone.

Aragorn was unfazed, as of course he would be. After all, _he_ wasn't the one being asked to spread his legs. Farther. Again. "Just let them fall out," Aragorn repeated calmly. "Lower them as far as you can."

Frodo did breathe deeply then, though still without moving, because he felt if he didn't take a few calming breaths he would probably explode, or at the very least he would kick out of these stirrups and abandon this procedure altogether. That was what he wanted to do; it was what dignity demanded. And yet, there was the matter of his pregnancy, unlikely to be resolved by his storming out of the Houses of Healing this afternoon. No, for the good of the babe he would cooperate. He took one more deep breath and on the exhale he slowly pushed his knees out toward Aragorn's steady hands.

"That's good, Frodo," Aragorn nodded encouragingly. "Just a bit more."

Resistance was futile, utter humiliation inevitable. Frodo spread his legs farther apart, feeling the stretch less in his knees and more in his private parts, as both openings became even more exposed than before. Finally seeming satisfied, Aragorn sat down on his stool and then pulled himself in closer to where Frodo could barely see his face over his own swollen belly.

Frodo closed his eyes and the image of the splayed animal filled his mind again, but this time rather than reject it he decided to embrace it. Let him be an animal, or an object even, if it meant he was not himself. The metal of the stirrups on the soles of his feet already made him feel very un-hobbit-like, even half mechanical. The awkward angle of his knees and the other unfamiliar sensations added to the estrangement. _They're not my feet,_ he told himself silently and, he thought, with remarkable calm. _Not my legs and not my bottom or my cock, and certainly not *my* birth canal down there in King Elessar's face._ In fact, he continued in his mind, _I'm not really here at all. Aragorn is examining something entirely un-me which just happens to be attached to my body._

He thought he was doing an excellent job of convincing himself of all this when he felt Aragorn's hand on the inside of his right thigh, and twitched slightly. _Not here! I am not here!_ he scolded himself.

"I'm going to check the opening with my fingers first," Aragorn said.

_He's going to check an opening somewhere far away and of no concern to me. . . ._ Frodo echoed silently, but it was no good. Frodo struggled to turn himself into a trapped animal, or better yet a piece of meat, and failed utterly as he felt two of Aragorn's fingers palpating the entrance and then probing deep inside him, felt the palm of Aragorn's other hand low on his belly, and the pressure between them.

"Very good," Aragorn murmured softly. "Frodo, you're doing very well, just try to relax a little more. Do you feel the muscles just underneath my fingers?" Frodo was intensely aware of every muscle in his body. "Try to let those muscles drop toward the floor."

Frodo might have tried to argue with this if he'd trusted his own voice. Letting his knees "fall" was one thing, and difficult enough, but it wasn't as if he had the same kind of control over these other parts of himself.

Control. If only he could control his brain, let alone the muscles around his birth canal, this could be so much easier. If he could get rid of his useless emotions and be as cold as Lotho, or passive as the dragonfly on the ground, he wouldn't be so uncomfortable and he wouldn't be so tense. The high table and the stirrups and the cool air and the room helped, they were so unfamiliar. But a Man's fingers in his new opening and his soft words of satisfaction had become very familiar indeed in the past few months.

Faramir, the child's father, was fascinated with the changes in Frodo's body since he'd conceived, and he often took the opportunity to explore the new passage with his fingers, with his tongue, with his cock. Frodo had resisted these touches at first, thinking there must be something unnatural to it. The opening was there, after all, for the purpose of birthing a child, and wasn't there something wrong about fooling around with that for pleasure? But the pleasure soon won him over. This was an entirely different feeling than having his lover inside him the other way. Both sensations were unique and both were wonderful.

Less wonderful was thinking about such things in the presence of the king, and thinking about them with two of the king's fingers inside him was quite horrible and mortifying and at the same time, well, wonderful again. _Stimulating._

Frodo was wondering vaguely whether Aragorn would be able to sense Frodo's excitement from feeling the inside of his passage, the way he knew it slicked and, yes, _relaxed_ when Faramir caressed him there. With a shock he realized there was a much more obvious indicator staring Aragorn in the face, as it were. _Some parts of it get touched,_ he attempted to narrate to himself, _and other parts of it move. Aragorn will find this very interesting in a way that has nothing to do with me._

It was a minor relief to him when Aragorn's fingers slid out, and the loss of sensation combined with his embarrassment caused his erection to deflate somewhat. "Dragonflies and field mice," he breathed.

"What's that, Frodo?"

Had he said it out loud?! "What? No, nothing, Aragorn, forgive me." And there was that catch in his voice again, and him a grown hobbit, not to mention savior of Middle-earth.

"I trust that wasn't too unpleasant for you." And did Frodo hear a smirk in Aragorn's tone? Trying to raise his head and peer over his belly seemed too much effort in order to find out, especially since Frodo didn't think he could ever look Aragorn in the face again. He stayed still. "From what I've observed so far, Frodo, your pregnancy is progressing very well. Everything here is very healthy."

Frodo swallowed and attempted a new tactic to avoid feeling quite so humiliated. Not the king, not his friend, and not a gorgeous Man in the least. This was his doctor, a professional, helping Frodo take care of his and Faramir's child. "That's good to hear," he answered weakly.

Aragorn moved to his side again, and Frodo could see without moving that the Man was perfectly serious after all. "I realize this situation is somewhat awkward for you," Aragorn said, "but you are doing very well. You have always been a hobbit to know what needs to be done and then to see it through to the end, Frodo. I admire that in you."

Frodo blushed and was surprised to realize that he hadn't done so earlier in the exam.

"Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable, Frodo?"

There was concern and affection in Aragorn's voice, but that really was a ridiculous question, particularly coming after so serious a speech. _Get me out of these stirrups immediately, take away this gown which hides nothing and give me some decent hobbit clothes, and please do not tell me you admire me while I'm lying here in this position,_ Frodo thought, and added desperately, _and let me not be pregnant anymore._ In a small voice he asked, "Is there much more?"

"I still need to look inside the birth passage."

Frodo didn't feel up to asking how this would be possible, but Aragorn reached for a metal instrument from his tray and held it up for Frodo to see.

"I'll slip this inside," the king---no, the _doctor_\---said levelly, "and then . . ." he used his thumb to turn something on the handle, causing the cylindrical part to spread open, and Frodo quickly turned his head to look away, his heart beating fast and his blush deepening.

He forced himself to speak. "Perhaps it's best if you just get on with that then. I do trust you, Aragorn. I needn't see all the details up quite so close."

"Very well," said Aragorn, returning once again to the foot of the table. He paused. "Your knees have moved closer together while we were speaking, Frodo. I need---" Frodo spread them open at once, without protest this time, eager to get the rest of it over with. "That's good." Aragorn sat down again. "I'm going to touch you now." And he did, inserting his fingers only slightly this time and then sliding the instrument far up inside the birth canal.

The cold of it shocked Frodo's senses and immediately he tensed, felt his knees draw closer together and his whole body seek to move away, even as Aragorn's left hand gently touched his belly and then his side, not grasping but reminding him to stay in place.

Frodo knew the lecture that was coming and spoke quickly, trying to preempt it. "I'm trying to relax, Aragorn, I am, and I understand all the reasons. But I really don't believe _you_ understand all the obstacles I face." Face, Aragorn had his face in the most intimate place possible and Frodo was trying to argue reasonably with him.

"You know the reasons?" was all Aragorn said, and Frodo thought he could _hear_ the Man raising his eyebrows.

It really was hopeless. "Being tense will only keep the opening tight," Frodo recited at the ceiling. "It will make it unpleasant and perhaps painful to have that thing inside me, and more so in a moment when you open it up, which I understand, I know you have to do so you can see the development of the passage, and, er, the womb . . . and so you can make sure there's nothing there that might cause problems during the birth, and endanger the child, or me. And I know I should have let you do this months ago and it would have been the safest thing for both of us, and if I'd been letting you examine me all along I'd be used to it by now and having the, the instrument where it is now would be nothing to me."

He broke off at having reminded himself that the instrument was, in fact, still inside him, and that Aragorn was still holding onto it. He took a moment to breathe and consider that thought, although not with the slow, deep breaths he knew Aragorn would prefer. After a few moments Frodo continued, "And apart from that there's the birth itself, and I know, I _do_ realize that the babe's head will be much, much bigger than anything you care to stick up inside me, even once you've opened it up, and I'd do best to get used to having things there now, and to having you looking at it all, since you and Faramir and who knows how many others will be watching then. It's also practice to bring those muscles under control and strengthen them so I can relax or tense or push or breathe or do whatever you command when the time comes."

Aragorn waited for a bit, probably to make sure Frodo had finished, and then asked innocently, "And the obstacles in your way?"

It would take far too long to explain. Hadn't he decided before that it was best to get this over with as quickly as possible? Frodo concentrated on slowing his breath, then spread his knees out as far as they would go, noticing a slight easing of the pressure inside him as he moved.

"Thank you, Frodo. I'm glad you understand," said Aragorn, feeling Frodo's belly again with his free hand while turning the instrument slightly. Frodo continued to practice breathing.

"There's something else," Aragorn continued, "a barrier that was present at the entrance when the passage first formed. I can see that it is gone now. I assume that you and Faramir have . . . explored this area."

So he _did_ know, had known as soon as Frodo spread his legs, even before the intimate touching had begun, the use he and his lover had been making of the birth passage! Was nothing to remain sacred or secret then? Was there nothing about Frodo that was not obvious to this Man? Frodo felt his blush spread all over his body then, the heat of it mixed with a shiver, but somehow he managed to keep his breathing steady and his legs spread wide. "Is it wrong?" he asked meekly. "Should we stop?"

Aragorn patted his hand lightly on Frodo's belly, an action he truly seemed to believe was reassuring and not humiliating. "Of course not, Frodo. Just the opposite, in fact. As you said, additional practice bringing those muscles under control will help make the birth easier for you." Despite the awkwardness, this last actually was reassuring for Frodo.

"Besides that," the king continued, "it goes both ways. If you practice tightening and relaxing the muscles I mentioned before, you will find the movement can produce great pleasure, for both you and Faramir. It is very healthy for the two of you to experiment with this." Awkwardness definitely was winning out over reassurance again now. Frodo really did not want this kind of advice, even from his doctor. "Try this for me now, Frodo. Breathe out, and try to bring the bottom of the passage up and in toward the instrument."

Frodo did this, surprised that he was actually able to isolate and move the muscles Aragorn was talking about, and felt himself tightening around Aragorn's tool. He couldn't help thinking what it would feel like to tighten that way around Faramir's _tool,_ or how it would feel for Faramir.

"Now breathe in again and release, let them fall away."

Frodo was able to do this too, and the pressure decreased.

"Excellent," said Aragorn. "Now do your best to stay relaxed like this. I'm going to spread it apart now so that I can see inside."

The pressure increased again, and Frodo hadn't thought he could feel any more exposed or vulnerable, but he did now. Still, the sensation was not painful or even wholly unpleasant, especially now as he let his mind drift to his recent nights of thrilling lovemaking with Faramir, each new thing they tried more exciting because they'd never tried it before. And had Frodo thought his arousal had gone away? It was back with a vengeance now, and grew stronger yet as he continued to fantasize about exercising his newly discovered muscles once he got home tonight.

"I can see the opening to the womb," Aragorn said cheerfully, interrupting Frodo's thoughts, "and everything is just as it should be."

Fine then, everything was just as it should be. Frodo stopped trying to control his thoughts, to pretend he wasn't feeling this, that he was somewhere else or that Aragorn was _someone_ else. He closed his eyes again, and in his mind's eye the dragonfly floated lazily over a stream, wings glittering in the sun.

And finally Frodo did relax, no longer trying to resist the inevitable arousal. The truth was, Aragorn's examination made him think of Faramir's touch, and he found he could accept now that Aragorn was aware of this. So let him be open, let him be aroused. The truth was, it didn't feel so strange anymore.

A new thought came to him and Frodo opened his eyes with a start. The other truth, the scarier truth, the one he hoped desperately that neither of the Men realized and that he hated to admit even to himself, was that when Faramir touched him in the bed they shared, Frodo closed his eyes and pretended he was lying with his king.


End file.
